


we could turn the world to gold

by underwaternow



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Getting Together, M/M, Meet the Family, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-03 22:37:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13350957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/underwaternow/pseuds/underwaternow
Summary: “So you want me to go to your family reunion with you…” Gabe says, slowly, like he’s still wrapping his head around this.“And pretend to be my boyfriend, yes,” Tyson confirms. His face is burning.Gabe considers this for a minute or so, then shrugs. “Okay.”





	we could turn the world to gold

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [oflights](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oflights/pseuds/oflights) in the [AVSFAM](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/AVSFAM) collection. 



> here we are again, another 10k later. thank you to allie for the prompt, thank you to britta and tori for reading over it for me, thank you to avsfam for being wonderful and amazing and the very best people i could have to love this stupid team with. thank you to everyone who reads and leaves kudos and comments. y'all are the real heroes. title is from run away with me by carly rae jepsen.

Tyson is totally listening as his mom recounts more details of the upcoming family reunion, he swears. Kind of. He’s mostly listening. He’s not _not_ listening, he just is pretty sure he heard an ice cream truck down the block, and got distracted trying to figure out if it’s coming closer or not. Okay, he isn’t really listening. He’s peeking out the front window when his mom finishes a sentence that he definitely didn’t hear but can tell ended in a question, so he just says, “Yeah, uh huh. For sure.”

“Oh, good,” his mom says, sounding excited. Uh oh. Tyson frantically tries to rewind in his brain to remember what she was saying, but he _really_ wasn’t listening. “I’ll add him to the head count, we’re getting shirts!”

“Add who to the head count?” Tyson hedges, going back into his family room and flopping onto the couch. He could really go for a King Cone. Maybe a Chipwich. 

“Gabe,” his mom says, sounding confused. That’s… probably fair. “You just said he was coming.”

Tyson laughs a little, ice cream momentarily forgotten. “Why would Gabe come to our family reunion?”

“Well, I thought of course he’d be there,” his mom says, like it’s obvious. “I told you months ago that if there was anyone you wanted to bring, anyone special… your sister’s boyfriend is coming, so - ”

Okay. This seems bad. His mom can’t mean -

“Wait, are you and Gabe _not_ dating?” his mom asks. “I hear about him all the time, I thought - ”

Tyson buries his face in one of the throw pillows on his couch. He can’t believe now he has to admit to his mom that he and Gabe are, in fact, not dating and he just talks about Gabe all the time because he has a gigantic crush on him and thinks about him all the time and has no self control. As far as embarrassing moments in Tyson’s life go, this has got to be pretty high up there, right next to that time he called Roman “babe.” How was he supposed to know that Roman’s girlfriend had just walked up behind him and Roman was actually talking to her when he said “hey, babe”? Tyson isn’t a mindreader.

“Did I make the wrong assumption?” his mom asks, sounding just a tad too pitying for Tyson’s liking. “I just, I feel like I know more about what’s going on with Gabe than you, but I didn’t mean to - ”

“Of course we’re dating,” Tyson blurts, and then literally takes the phone away from his ear and looks at it, like _what the fuck_. “He’s definitely coming. He can’t wait.” Holy shit what is his problem. He wants to scream.

“Oh, good,” his mom says. “We’re so excited to see him again.”

“Great,” Tyson says miserably. “Mom, I gotta go.”

“Okay, honey,” she says, unaware of how totally destroyed his entire life is right now. “See you in two weeks!”

Tyson hangs up the phone and throws it on the floor, and then the damn ice cream truck starts up again right outside his house. What a betrayal.

 

 

“It’s not that funny,” Tyson snaps, folding his arms across his chest and waiting for Nate to stop laughing. “Fuck you, shut up.”

“It is absolutely that funny,” Nate says, between gasps, tears collecting in the corners of his eyes. “You talk about Gabe so much your mom thinks you’re dating, and you panicked and _agreed_.”

“I know what happened,” Tyson says, as rudely as possible.

“And now she’s expecting him to show up at the family reunion,” Nate says, and that sets him off again. He’s leaning on the kitchen counter, as if it’s so funny he doesn’t trust himself to stay on his feet. Tyson just waits while he calms down, takes a few deep breaths, and asks, “What are you gonna do?”

“I thought I might just ask Gabe if he’ll go along with it,” Tyson admits. He’s aware of what a potentially bad idea that is, but it seems like a better option than having to call his mom and tell her the truth at this point. Gabe will make fun of him, and probably make him do something stupid like carry his bags or tie up his skates for him once the season starts, but he might also agree to go, and then Tyson will have someone to get through the weekend with, which sounds actually pretty great. 

Nate starts laughing again, face buried in his hands. Tyson is formally looking for a new best friend.

 

 

The thing is, Tyson’s plan to get Gabe to just go along with it means that now Tyson has to actually explain to Gabe what happened and ask if he’ll save him from being humiliated by his entire family, and that. Well. Tyson’s kind of dreading it. He texts Gabe - _hey wanna come over, call of duty_ \- and pours vanilla vodka and a Capri Sun into a mug while he waits for a response.

 _since when do you play call of duty_ , is the reply five minutes later.

Tyson rolls his eyes and slams his drink back. _just come over!_

Gabe shows up within half an hour, dressed in a white t-shirt and shorts that show off way more thigh than Tyson is comfortable with. Tyson’s palms immediately start sweating. He nonchalantly wipes them on his own appropriately-fitting shorts as Gabe comes in and starts rifling through his fridge, already bitching about the lack of beer. 

“My house is BYOB,” Tyson informs him snottily. “You know that, Gabe.”

“Every now and then I can hope you’ve come to your senses,” Gabe says. What a dick. Gabe grins at him, though, eyes bright, and Tyson reluctantly retracts that thought. “So what’s up, anyway? I know you didn’t get me over here because you actually want to play Call of Duty. Do you even own it?” 

He brushes past Tyson to go into the family room, presumably to look for the game, which Tyson does actually have a copy of. It’s Nate’s, and he left it in the Xbox a month ago and Tyson hasn’t touched it since, but Gabe doesn’t have to know that.

“Yes,” Tyson lies, trailing along behind him. Gabe finds the box for the game and holds it up, makes an impressed face, and Tyson wants to hit him. On the mouth. With his mouth. _Focus, Tyson, Jesus Christ._

“So, uh, actually, I wanted to ask a favor,” Tyson starts, and Gabe sets the game back down and glances at him.

“What’d you do now?”

“Fuck you,” Tyson says, and Gabe laughs, more heartily than he really needs to. “Well. I’ve got this family reunion coming up, in like two weeks, it’s back home in Victoria…”

“Yeah,” Gabe says. He’s not really paying attention, busy reading the back of one of Tyson’s DVDs, probably something from ten years ago that he’s never even seen. 

“My mom assumed you were coming because she thinks we’re dating and I accidentally agreed with her so now she’s expecting to see you there,” Tyson says, in one breath. Gabe very slowly sets the movie down and turns to look at him. He’s got a weird look on his face, one Tyson can’t really read.

“Wait,” Gabe says. “Let me understand this. Your mom - thinks we’re dating? You and me?”

“I know it’s ridiculous,” Tyson says, a little sharply. Gabe really doesn’t need to rub it in. 

“Why does she think we’re dating?” Gabe asks. He looks like he’s trying not to laugh. Tyson wants to die.

“It’s not important, okay, she just does,” Tyson says. “I didn’t tell her we were, if that’s what you’re thinking. I mean, I kind of did - technically I only agreed when she told me she thought we were. Accidentally.”

“So you want me to go to your family reunion with you…” Gabe says, slowly, like he’s still wrapping his head around this. 

“And pretend to be my boyfriend, yes,” Tyson confirms. His face is burning. 

Gabe considers this for a minute or so, then shrugs. “Okay.”

“Wait - seriously?” Tyson asks. That was way too easy. 

“You’re paying my way,” Gabe tells him. “Like a boyfriend would.”

“Fine, whatever,” Tyson says, ignoring the way his pulse jumps when Gabe says _boyfriend_. This is such a terrible idea.

“What level of commitment are we talking about here?” Gabe continues. “Holding hands? Cute nicknames?” He pauses. “Kissing?”

“No!” Tyson says, his voice cracking. He clears his throat, tries not to keel over. “No kissing.”

“That doesn’t seem very believable,” Gabe comments, folding his arms over his chest and smirking. Tyson truly hates him a little bit. “If we’re going to sell this, Tys, we might need to kiss.”

“Fine,” Tyson snaps. Maybe he’ll just barricade himself in his house and refuse to ever leave it again, and then he can be on TV, an episode of MTV Real Life or My Strange Addiction or something. _Bubble Man: Freak refuses to leave his home!_ “But only if we need to.”

“Would kissing me really be so bad?” Gabe asks, full-on grinning now. “You wound me.”

“I think you’ll be okay,” Tyson says in his brattiest voice. “Holding hands, maybe. Cute nicknames, no.”

“You don’t want to call me Babriel?”

“ _No_ ,” Tyson says. “Shut up.”

“How did we get together?” Gabe asks. “How long have we been dating?”

Tyson literally throws up his hands, which is something he’s pretty sure he’s only seen from moms in TV sitcoms from the 90s and Nate when he’s mad and is trying to convey the depths of his annoyance. “I don’t know, Gabe, you tell me. Six months.”

“Only six months?” Gabe asks. Tyson is positive at this point that Gabe’s enjoying himself. “If I’m invited to the family reunion then either we got really serious really fast, or we’ve been together longer.”

“You pick,” Tyson says, because he can’t bring himself to contemplate either option.

“I think we should probably say we got serious fast,” Gabe says thoughtfully. “If we say we’ve been together longer, it might raise questions of why I haven’t been around before now, or why you didn’t actually tell people we were dating until your mom just assumed we were. Which I still don’t understand, by the way.”

“You don’t need to understand that,” Tyson says. His blood pressure is definitely spiking over the idea of him and Gabe in a serious relationship. “Just shut up and look pretty.”

Gabe flashes a grin at him, sharp and lethal and so, so beautiful. “Aww. You think I’m pretty.”

“You’re know you’re not grotesque, come on,” Tyson grumbles. Gabe laughs at him again and sits down on the couch and turns on the Xbox, which means Tyson ends up actually having to play Call of Duty. He gets destroyed, but Gabe is smiling and gorgeous and agreed to pretend to be his boyfriend for a weekend to his entire family, so things could definitely be worse. 

 

 

“Wait,” Nate says. “Wait, wait, wait. He agreed, just like that?” He reaches across the table and takes some of Tyson’s fries, brow furrowed.

“Yes,” Tyson says, trying to slap at Nate’s hand. He has a lot of nerve taking Tyson’s fries after insisting he didn’t want his own. He misses, almost knocks over his water glass instead. “I’m paying, but otherwise he just - said yes.”

Nate raises his eyebrows at Tyson. Tyson stares back. Nate waggles them a little.

“What?” Tyson asks impatiently.

“I don’t know,” Nate says, shrugging, and takes a huge bite of his sandwich. A piece of onion falls out and onto his plate. “Just, it’s not like Landy to not give you shit for something like that.”

“I know,” Tyson says, picking at his own sandwich. There’s too much mayo and not enough hot mustard on it, and he really just wanted a burger but Nate convinced him to “be healthy.” Well, what looks like half a cup of mayo isn’t healthy, and now Tyson is irritated, not to mention still hungry. “Maybe he felt bad that I’m so pathetic.”

“You’re not pathetic,” Nate says through another enormous bite. Tyson gives him a look as he chews. “You’re not! Okay, so maybe telling your mom that you’re dating him when you actually just have a huge crush on him - ”

“Shhh!” Tyson says, even though no one is paying attention. The tables closest to them are empty, the waitress across the room flirting with a busboy. He mostly just doesn’t want to hear it again.

“She’s the one who thought it,” Nate says.

“Because I talk about him all the time, apparently,” Tyson points out. Just saying it is embarrassing. He didn’t even realize how much he talks about Gabe.

“You’re friends,” Nate says. “You’re allowed to talk about your friends. Do you talk about me?”

“Sure,” Tyson says, swiping a fry through ketchup. “Sometimes.” He’s pretty sure the truth is _not really_ or at least _yes, but nowhere near as much as I talk about Gabe_ , but he’s not going to tell Nate that. 

“So,” Nate says. “Not pathetic, Brutes.”

Tyson rolls his eyes. He appreciates the effort, at least. 

 

 

“I want the window seat,” Gabe says, jabbing Tyson in the back with his passport as they make their way down the jet bridge. “Is that okay, pumpkin?”

“Die,” Tyson says, not turning around. He can feel his ears getting hot. Gabe laughs, a low, warm sound that has Tyson seriously considering staging a breakup right here and now just so he doesn’t have to do this all weekend. 

“You’re the best,” Gabe singsongs in his ear as Tyson comes to a stop. The family just ahead of them is struggling with their stroller, two of the three kids wailing, and he tries not to sigh. He has to admit that during the season, it’s easy to forget how much other people make the whole process of flying suck. It is, however, not sucky enough to distract him fully from the heat of Gabe’s body, too close behind him. Gabe puts his hand on Tyson’s side as the family finally starts moving into the plane, and Tyson almost jumps out of his skin.

“What’re you doing?” he asks through gritted teeth. 

“Selling it,” Gabe says, squeezing Tyson’s hip and letting his hand linger before taking it away. “Relax, okay? There’s no reason for you to look so tense, Jesus, people are going to think you hate me.”

Tyson takes a deep breath through his nose and exhales slowly. His self-preservation instincts are screaming at him, but Gabe probably does have a point. This is supposed to be real. It doesn’t do much good if they’re the least believable couple ever because he can’t unclench. So he rolls his shoulders a few times, thinks to himself, _okay, breathe_ , and lets Gabe take his bag and put it in the overhead compartment when he offers. 

“Thanks,” Tyson says, once they’re settled in their seats. He reaches over and touches Gabe’s hand a little, hesitantly. “For coming. For doing this at all, sorry, it’s so stupid.”

“I wouldn’t have said yes if I didn’t want to,” Gabe says firmly, and then he turns his hand over and captures Tyson’s hand in his. Their fingers are tangled together. The inside of Tyson’s head is suddenly chaos: alarms wailing, people screaming, static noise turned up to 11. “Don’t apologize, okay?”

“Okay,” Tyson gets out, hoarsely, and Gabe squeezes his hand and lets go, starts digging in his backpack for headphones. The flight attendant walks by and smiles at Tyson when they make eye contact. Tyson manages a grimace back. 

 

 

They have a two hour layover in Vancouver, and Gabe slouches down low in a chair at the gate and promptly falls asleep. His head is resting against the back of the seat, his mouth hanging open a little, and every now and then he snores. Tyson records him for 42 seconds, watches it back twice, feels like a total creep and deletes it, and immediately changes his mind and moves it back to his camera roll from the trash. Then he texts Nate.

_dude this was such a mistake. what do i do_

Nate’s response is entirely unhelpful.

_separate hotel rooms_

_i hate you. my mom booked it, i don't think she got us separate rooms_

Nate sends back a string of the laughing and crying emojis, and then the bed emoji and the two guys kissing emoji at the end, which isn’t funny. Tyson seriously did not think this through, but he isn’t going to panic in the middle of the Vancouver airport. Instead, he’s going to solve his own problems, because he is an adult and not a mess and can handle this. He scrolls through his texts from his mom to find the name of the hotel, googles the phone number, and calls the hotel to reserve a second room. He congratulates himself for taking care of it so easily while he waits on hold, and so of course as soon as he gets through to a person, she promptly tells him that the hotel is full all weekend.

“Can I make sure that an existing reservation is for a room with two beds?” Tyson asks, desperation creeping in, and the woman tells him she can add a note to the reservation but can’t guarantee anything. He says thank you, hangs up, and resists the urge to scream into his hands. Then he sends Nate about 50 of the upside-down smiley face emoji. 

 

 

Tyson’s sister is waiting in baggage claim for them when they land, and Tyson can see the huge shit-eating grin on her face as soon as they clear security and spot her. Awesome. 

“Hey, guys!” she says, way too enthusiastically as they approach, Tyson dragging his feet just a little. If anybody’s going to see through this ruse, it’s his sister, and he’ll never hear the end of it. If she doesn’t, he’ll still never hear the end of it. 

“Hey, it’s Victoria in Victoria,” Gabe says, grinning at her, and Victoria laughs really genuinely even though Tyson knows she hates that joke. He considers kicking Gabe, but is pretty sure that wouldn’t be very boyfriendly. Victoria is now smirking at him from over Gabe’s shoulder as he hugs her hello, though, and it’s really tempting.

“This is such a huge surprise,” she says when Gabe lets go of her. “How did I not know about you two? Tyson?”

Tyson opens his mouth to fumble through a subpar explanation of why they’ve supposedly been dating for six months and his own sister is just hearing about it now, but Gabe leans into his side, wraps an arm around his shoulders, and says smoothly, “You know, we didn’t really know what it would become at first, and then we were busy with the end of the season, and we kind of just realized it was pretty serious and we should maybe tell some people. My family didn’t know until recently either.”

“Wow,” Victoria says. She narrows her eyes at Tyson. “That doesn’t seem like you.”

“Didn’t wanna jinx it,” Tyson says, which is maybe the most truthful but probably not the most embarrassing thing he’ll say all weekend. Gabe laughs, like Tyson is just so damn endearing he can’t help it, and Tyson wants to set himself on fire. He cuts a glance sideways at Gabe, who’s beaming, and the corners of his own mouth tug upward. 

Once they’re in the car, Victoria says, “So, I need to know everything. How did this happen?”

“You tell her, Gabe,” Tyson says from the backseat. Gabe had been all gung-ho about choosing a backstory for them, and Tyson had ended up telling him to just decide on something and he’d go along with whatever it was. He’s actually kind of curious to hear what Gabe came up with.

“Oh,” Gabe says. “Well. It’s not really a very good story, but, uh - a bunch of us went out after a game back in January, it was right before our bye week and we’d won and we drank a lot. Probably too much.” He sounds self-conscious as he keeps talking, but Tyson isn’t really listening because he remembers that night, vividly. They _had_ all gone out, and Gabe’s right, they’d both been so drunk. They’d been in a heated conversation, down the hall by the bathrooms, over something pointless he can barely remember, but there had been this - it was a moment, there’s no other way to describe it. They were both drunk and worked up and standing so close together, and Tyson remembers the way Gabe’s eyes had tracked his mouth, remembers the way Gabe had swayed a little, like he wanted to lean in and kiss him, and how his eyes had gone dark. He remembers how Mikko had yelled down the hall at them and the moment had shattered and Gabe’s shoulders had slumped, just barely.

“ - so, I don’t know, he was just really passionate about animated movies being valid Best Picture contenders, which is maybe the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, and I wanted to kiss him, so I did,” Gabe finishes. That’s right. That’s what he’d been yelling about, Tyson remembers now. Holy shit, though, _what?_

“That’s… actually really cute,” Victoria says. Normally Tyson would give her crap for sounding so surprised, but right now his brain is scrambling to keep up. What the hell does it mean if his fake boyfriend uses something completely real as their getting together story? He was wildly unprepared for this.

“Yeah,” Gabe says, his voice soft. “Then it just kind of… happened.”

Tyson tries to crane his neck to get a look at Gabe without making it obvious that he’s trying to get a look at Gabe. Gabe is staring determinedly ahead, out the front window, but the tops of his cheeks are faintly pink. Huh. Interesting.

 

 

Victoria drops them off at the hotel and leaves again to do a couple errands; “Mom is a mess,” she tells them as they get out of the car. “I’m trying to do as much as I can just so she doesn’t lose her mind from the stress.”

“Why did she insist on doing this?” Tyson asks, stretching. His back pops.

“I mean, I think it’s one of those things that you don’t realize will be so stressful until it’s too late,” Victoria says, “but I also think it was Grandma’s idea to get everyone together, and Mom didn’t want to say no because who knows how long Grandma even has.”

“Oh, is she sick?” Gabe asks politely, eyes creasing with concern.

“No,” Tyson says, snorting. “She’ll outlive us all.”

Victoria just waves her hand, like that’s a minor detail. “Anyway. Mom wants us to have dinner tonight, and there’s no way you’re getting out of it, so be ready at 7.”

“Fine,” Tyson says, taking his bag from Gabe. 

“Enjoy the hotel!” Victoria chirps, winking exaggeratedly, and drives off. Tyson briefly wishes he were an only child. 

When they check in, the woman at the desk pauses, furrows her brow, and says, “I’m sorry, Mr. Barrie, we unfortunately aren’t able to accommodate your request for a room with two queen beds. Is one king okay?”

Fabulous. Tyson is going to hitchhike all the way up into the deep Yukon Territories and ask to be left for dead by the side of the road.

“Of course it’s okay,” Gabe says, jumping in before Tyson can respond. “That’ll be great, Rachel.” He aims his biggest, brightest, toothpaste ad smile at Rachel, who blushes and smiles and ducks her head, and Tyson barely controls the urge to roll his eyes. 

“You’re such a flirt,” he says in the elevator, badly concealing the annoyance in his voice.

Gabe just calmly raises an eyebrow. “Two beds?”

“For _your_ sake, Gabe,” Tyson blusters. “I figured, you have to pretend to be dating me all weekend, the least I could do was get you your own bed.”

Gabe smiles, just a little, and looks at the floor. “It’s really fine, Tys. It’s a king. There’s plenty of room.”

Tyson privately thinks that there isn’t enough room in the entire hotel for him to deal with this, but for once he keeps his mouth shut. 

 

 

Tyson drinks three glasses of wine at their dinner with his parents and Victoria and her boyfriend, and so he’s slightly woozy when the Uber drops them off at the hotel. He stumbles, just a little, getting out of the car - he got stuck in the seatbelt, he’s not drunk, three glasses of wine isn’t enough to get him _drunk_ \- and Gabe is there, suddenly, solid and warm and holding him up.

“You’re a lightweight,” Gabe tells him, voice close to Tyson’s ear and one arm wrapped around his waist, but there’s no bite to his tone. Tyson leans into Gabe’s side a little as they cross the lobby, but does at least have the presence of mind to wait until they’re in the elevator, alone, before melting against Gabe fully and putting his hand on Gabe’s chest, rubbing his fingers over Gabe’s pecs, just a little. They’re very firm. Tyson might be drunk.

“‘m drunk,” Tyson tells Gabe, looking up at him in profile. Gabe has such a good nose. Tyson would like to bite it. “Your hair looks like Rapunzel’s from Tangled.”

Gabe’s eyes widen, and then he laughs. “Does that make you the handsome prince?”

“Flynn Rider isn’t a prince,” Tyson informs him, and Gabe just laughs some more and steers him off the elevator. 

When they get to their room, Tyson collapses face first on the bed and ignores Gabe as he moves around, running the sink in the bathroom and brushing his teeth and digging through his bag. He’s almost asleep when Gabe prods his shoulder and says, “Hey. Tys. Sit up.”

“You sit up,” Tyson says nonsensically into the mattress.

“I mean it, come on,” Gabe says. “If you fall asleep in your jeans you’re gonna be so mad.”

That - well, that’s a fair point, so Tyson sits up and takes the sweatpants Gabe holds out to him and goes into the bathroom to change, ignoring Gabe as he starts in about having seen Tyson in various states of undress a million times. They’re not in a locker room, and even drunk, Tyson knows that the more he can keep this platonic and not do things that couples do just because they’re pretending to be a couple, the easier he’ll survive it. 

He does realize that groping Gabe in the elevator probably falls into the category of “things couples do and therefore should be avoided,” but he can’t have everything.

Tyson brushes his teeth, comes out of the bathroom and whips off his t-shirt to change into a different one, tries to think about anything except the way he can feel Gabe’s eyes on him, and then turns around and almost chokes. Gabe is sitting up against the headboard of the bed with two pillows wedged behind him, phone in hand; the comforter is turned down but he’s not under it yet, and he’s wearing black boxer briefs and a snug black t-shirt. The lamp on the bedside table next to him is the only one on in the room, lighting him up with a soft, warm glow, and as Tyson stares, frozen in place, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, Gabe looks up and smiles.

Tyson feels lightheaded. He doesn’t think it’s the wine.

“You okay?” Gabe asks him, glancing back down at his phone. Tyson can tell he’s playing Candy Crush by the way his thumbs are moving. “Hey, drink some water. There are glasses in the bathroom. Do you need me to get it for you?”

“No,” Tyson croaks as Gabe starts to swing his legs off the bed. He absolutely will not survive Gabe walking around their hotel room in his underwear. “I’ll get it.” He rushes back into the bathroom, gulps water from the tap out of his hands like a dog, splashes some more water on his face, and then fills up a glass and forces himself to breathe and walks back to bed with as much dignity as possible.

“Better?” Gabe asks, not looking away from his game, as Tyson sets the water down and slides into bed, trying not to obviously cling to the edge of the mattress.

“Yeah,” Tyson says, which is a lie. It doesn’t really matter how big the bed is; he’s so aware of Gabe’s body next to him, under the same blankets, that he feels like he can’t breathe. 

“Good,” Gabe says. Tyson watches as he finishes the level and looks over, smiles, and then _leans toward him_. Tyson almost panics, seriously considers rolling out of bed and claiming he fell, but before he can do anything Gabe kisses his forehead and then settles back against his pillows. Tyson can smell the mint from the toothpaste on his breath. “Sweet dreams, honey bunch.”

Tyson yanks a pillow out from behind himself and throws it at Gabe.

 

 

Tyson wakes up the next morning with a headache and a warm, solid body pressed up against his chest, and he instinctively hums under his breath and snuggles closer, because of course he does, before he remembers where he is and who the body is. Then he freezes. That is Gabe’s back, Gabe’s shoulder blade that he almost nuzzled, Gabe’s hips that his arm is wrapped around loosely. Oh God. He sends a quick, desperate prayer that Gabe isn’t awake yet out into the universe, and then starts to shift away from him as carefully as possible. He’s going for “calmly shifting away naturally in sleep, very chill, nothing frantic about this,” not “rolling away in a frenzied panic because your ass is seriously perfect, holy shit, wow.”

“You don’t have to move,” Gabe mumbles, his voice thick with sleep. Damn it. Tyson closes his eyes and is seriously considering pretending that he’s still asleep when he feels Gabe shifting, rolling over. “I know you’re awake, Tyson, you sleep with your mouth open.”

Tyson opens his eyes and glares at Gabe. “That’s personal.”

“Stop falling asleep on the bus and the plane and at my Super Bowl party last year, then,” Gabe says, tucking one hand under his cheek, against the pillow. He looks beautiful like this: bleary-eyed, rumpled hair, a small, soft smile on his face as he lies there looking at Tyson. It’s too much, honestly, and Tyson suddenly feels itchy with the need to get away. 

“I’ll take the first shower,” he says, and gets out of bed. 

 

 

The reunion itself is at Tyson’s grandparents’ place, a little ways out of the city, and when they pull into the driveway and take it in, he barely recognizes the farm. There are balloons, picnic tables covered in red and white checked tablecloths, lawn games, even a fire pit. His mom did a great job. 

“Hi, honey,” his mom says as he and Gabe walk into the kitchen, greeting them with hugs. She’s got a box of the cheesy shirts she had printed at her feet, and she holds one out to both of them. Gabe, of course, takes his eagerly and puts it on, the suck-up. Tyson tries not to audibly sigh as he tugs his over his head.

Gabe glances over at him and grins. “Your hair’s all messed up now. Here.” He reaches over and runs his fingers through Tyson’s hair, and Tyson is relatively confident he’s just making it worse, but - Gabe’s hand is in his hair, and Gabe’s eyes are soft as he concentrates on what he’s doing, and for a few seconds Tyson lets himself forget this is an act. Lets himself think about leaning in and pressing a kiss to the corner of Gabe’s mouth in thanks.

“There,” Gabe says, after what was probably only a few seconds but felt like a lifetime. “Better. Sort of. I think.”

“Thanks,” Tyson mumbles, his face hot. 

“I’m so happy you’re here, Gabe,” Tyson’s mom says, and she’s beaming at them both, looking a little misty-eyed. “You mean a lot to Tyson, I know how much he loves you, and - ”

“Thanks, Mom,” Tyson says loudly, his pulse skyrocketing, palms going clammy. The very last thing he needed was his _mom_ dropping the L word. 

“I’m very glad to be here,” Gabe says, glancing at Tyson. “He, um. He means a lot to me too.”

Tyson swallows and looks away, and Gabe nudges his hand against Tyson’s and very gently hooks their pinkies together. God. Tyson hates his life.

 

 

Of course Tyson’s entire family loves Gabe, probably more than they love Tyson. By lunch he’s hit it off with every single one of Tyson’s relatives, and his cousin’s two kids won’t leave Gabe alone. They move through the buffet line as a pack, three-year-old Lucas riding on Gabe’s shoulders as Gabe makes a plate for him of nothing but one hot dog with ketchup, no bun, and Cheetos. 

“Nothing else, buddy?” Gabe asks him as Tyson watches them out of the corner of his eye from the dessert table. He’s an adult; he can have dessert first if he wants. Gabe interacting with children all morning right in front of him means he deserves at _least_ a piece of cake.

“No,” Lucas says.

“Not even some of this yummy fruit salad?” Gabe presses. “Mmm. I’m having some, for sure.”

“No.”

“He doesn’t like any fruits or vegetables,” Jacob, who’s five, informs Gabe. “But I want fruit salad.” 

“Awesome,” Gabe says, sounding genuinely excited. “Hold up your plate.” 

Tyson shoves half a piece of cake in his mouth and turns away; he’s only a masochist to a point. Unfortunately he turns right into Victoria, who’s standing behind him, smirking.

“So what gives?” she wants to know.

Tyson shrugs at her, cheeks bulging with his aunt’s double chocolate fudge cake.

“I just find it really hard to believe you wouldn’t have told everyone you know that you and Gabe were a thing, no matter how undefined it was,” she goes on.

Tyson swallows and glares at her. “Hey, I can keep a secret!”

“You can’t,” she says, “but let’s say you can - would you really have kept this from me?”

”Yes,” Tyson says darkly, frowning, as Gabe and the boys walk past them to go find a seat.

“Hey, Tys, you sitting with us?” Gabe asks, turning around slightly, a plate of food in each hand. Lucas is still on his shoulders, holding onto Gabe by his hair, blond tufts sticking out of each of his little fists.

“Be there in a minute,” Tyson says, nodding, and then says to Victoria, “If you’ll excuse me.”

“I want to know what’s going on,” she says. “I’ll find out eventually, Tyson!”

Tyson just waves at her and goes to fill up a plate. By the time he has food and makes it out to the table where Gabe, Lucas, and Jacob are, Lucas has eaten two-thirds of the hot dog and is running around on the grass nearby. Jacob is spearing blueberries on his fork one by one. Gabe is stuffing his face with coleslaw and pulled pork, there’s barbecue sauce on his chin, and he’s still the most attractive person Tyson has ever seen. Tyson tries not to groan out loud as he sits down at the picnic table next to him.

“Awesome food,” Gabe tells him through a mouthful of potato chips. “I’m coming to all of your family reunions from now on.”

“I’m sure you’d be welcome,” Tyson says. “Everyone loves you. Four people stopped me on my way over here to tell me so.”

Gabe laughs, head thrown back and the sun glinting off his hair. “Nice. I’ve got the family stamp of approval.”

Tyson just shoves a bite-size brownie in his mouth instead of answering, because there’s literally nothing he could say that wouldn’t be horrifically embarrassing. They’re all quiet for a few minutes, content to eat, and then Jacob, tired of dipping the last of his fruit salad in ketchup instead of eating it, asks loudly, “What’s a boyfriend?”

Tyson knows he shouldn’t tell a child to shut up, but he considers it anyway. Gabe glances up from his food, a forkful of coleslaw halfway between his plate and his mouth. “What?”

“Mommy said you’re Tyson’s boyfriend,” Jacob says. “What’s that mean?”

“Oh, uh.” Gabe sets his fork down on his plate and appears to be seriously thinking about how to explain this concept to a five year old, because of course he is. That’s just who Gabe is. Tyson loves him. “It’s just, someone you love.”

“So is Lucas my boyfriend?” Jacob asks.

Gabe laughs a little. “No. It’s a grown-ups thing, and not a brother or sister thing. Kind of like your mom and dad.”

Jacob considers this for a few minutes, face scrunched up, and then asks, “Do you kiss? My mom and dad kiss.”

Tyson starts calculating how fast he can run and how far away the edge of the property is. Maybe if he just goes for it, he can put enough distance between himself and this picnic table to feel safe before his legs give out, and then he can limp the rest of the way back into town. Or he could hitchhike. Or Uber. Could he get an Uber out here? 

“Sure,” Gabe says, after a tragically awkward pause. “Sometimes.” 

Jacob laughs. “Ewww!”

“What’s ew?” Victoria asks, appearing out of nowhere and sliding onto the bench next to Jacob. What the hell. Tyson didn’t even see her coming.

“They _kiss_ ,” Jacob explains, still giggling. 

Victoria looks at Tyson, and then at Gabe, and Tyson can see her brain working. His sister is smart, and he’s not good at not looking like he wants to die of embarrassment, and even Gabe is blushing a little. He’s in trouble.

“Do they?” she asks, even as Jacob gets up from the table and runs off, no longer interested in the complicated, boring world of adult relationships. She narrows her eyes at Tyson. “Come to think of it, I haven’t actually seen you kiss each other since you got here.”

“What, you expect us to be walking around making out all over the place?” Tyson asks, his voice a little too high. “C’mon, don’t be ridiculous.”

“No, not making out.” She taps her chin thoughtfully. “I’m just saying, it shouldn’t be a problem for you to kiss right now.”

“We’re eating,” Tyson says.

“Your plate is empty,” she points out.

“Gabe’s eating,” Tyson says, trying not to sound hysterical.

“Gabe’s done too,” Victoria tells him. “But if you don’t want to - ”

“Tys,” Gabe says, and he bumps their knees together under the table, and Tyson knows he’s not getting out of this. He leans in a little, lets Gabe come to him and closes his eyes at the last second, and Gabe kisses him carefully. His lips are soft and warm, his stubble just rough enough to be good instead of unpleasant, and he tastes like barbeque sauce. Tyson’s stomach is doing somersaults. When Gabe parts his lips against Tyson’s, just barely, before pulling back, Tyson tries not to moan.

“See? Easy,” Victoria says, and stands up. “My work here is done.” 

Tyson is breathless. He chances a glance at Gabe as she walks away. Gabe is blinking at him, looking just as blown away as Tyson feels, and that’s… well. Tyson isn’t sure what that is.

“Um,” he says.

“Yeah,” Gabe says, clears his throat. “Sorry. I know you didn’t - but it just seemed - ”

“No! It’s okay,” Tyson says quickly, because he definitely doesn’t want Gabe to think he kissed Tyson against his will. “You were right, you know, we need to sell it.” _Please drag me behind those bushes over there and never stop kissing me again_ , he doesn’t say.

“Right,” Gabe agrees. They sit there for a minute in silence, and just as it’s getting so awkward Tyson can’t stand it anymore, is about to open his mouth and say something he’s sure he’ll regret, Jacob comes sprinting back, Lucas hot on his heels.

“Gabe! Can we have dessert?” Jacob says.

“Cookie!” Lucas cheers.

“We can totally have dessert,” Gabe says, standing up, collecting the empty plates to throw out because he’s just so goddamn _thoughtful_ all the time and heading back toward the house, the boys racing ahead of him. Tyson drops his forehead onto the tablecloth-covered pine slats of the table and just stays like that for awhile.

 

 

“Hey,” Gabe says, appearing out of the shadowy dusk. Tyson is hiding behind the barn; most of the family is still there, some on the porch playing cards, some clustered around a roaring bonfire, laughing and talking and making s’mores, but he needed a break. Everyone wants to talk about Gabe, to ask how long they’ve been a couple and how did they start dating, to tell him that Gabe is so nice, just a really thoughtful guy, they seem happy together.

It’s making Tyson’s head hurt. 

“Hey,” he says quietly, looking up at Gabe and then away, back out into the oncoming velvety blackness. The stars are appearing one by one. Gabe is wearing a beat-up navy blue hoodie now, the air cooling off rapidly since the sun went down, and his hair is sticking up in back and he looks so good and Tyson’s head _hurts_. Maybe it’s not his head, but his heart. “How’d you find me?”

Gabe shrugs. “Figured you snuck off somewhere to get a few minutes alone. I know today was probably… a lot.” He pauses, shoves his hands in the front pocket of his sweatshirt. “Also I checked in the kitchen with the leftover food first and you weren’t there, so.”

Tyson snorts a laugh. “I think everyone here has told me how nice you are at least once. My grandma twice.”

Gabe grins, looks at the ground.

“Which is true,” Tyson hurries to add, because that’s the worst part, how right they all are. Gabe is - _so_ nice, and in a way where everyone can always tell that he means it. He’s one of the best people Tyson knows. “It’s just, um. I mean. I’m not actually dating you, so.” He laughs, awkwardly.

Gabe is quiet for what feels like a very long time. “Why’d your mom think we were dating?” he finally asks.

“I talk about you a lot,” Tyson confesses, the words slipping out of his mouth before he can even think about it, let alone stop them. “God. That’s embarrassing. She thought - I don’t know - of course I must be dating a guy I tell her that much about.” He rubs the back of his neck, glances at Gabe and then immediately away again because Gabe is watching him steadily, not blinking.

“Why do you talk about me so much?” Gabe asks. His voice is low.

“I - I don’t know,” Tyson says. He can feel his pulse quickening, thrumming through his veins. His heart is thudding against his ribcage.

“Yeah, you do, come on,” Gabe tells him. He’s standing so close, even in the dark Tyson can see the blue of his eyes, the pink of his mouth - the mouth that kissed his not even twelve hours ago. “Why?”

If Tyson were a better person, a braver person, he would tell him. He’d be honest, would lay the cards on the table, let Gabe respond to it however he wanted to and walk away with his head held high. But he’s not; he’s just Tyson, and Gabe is Gabe, bright and bigger than life itself and loved by everyone, and he’s fucking terrified right now.

“I - ” he starts anyway, and he could swear Gabe is holding his breath, and then a small dark figure darts around the corner of the barn, hollering Gabe’s name, and plows into him.

Lucas.

Tyson exhales all the air in his lungs, frantically rubs a hand over his face as Gabe swings Lucas up in the air and starts talking to him, and slinks off like a coward. He goes back to the house and squeezes in next to Victoria on the porch, and as his uncle deals the next hand she nudges him.

“Hey. Whatever’s going on, you’re okay, right?”

“I don’t know anymore,” Tyson says honestly. All he knows for sure is that he’s in way over his head.

 

 

Gabe is quiet on the ride back to the hotel with Victoria and her boyfriend, his face calm and unbothered but serious. Tyson doesn’t mind. He doesn’t want to talk. He lets the hum of the conversation from the front seat wash over him, looks out the window, makes eye contact with Gabe once or twice that puts a tiny smile on Gabe’s face and leaves Tyson’s insides jumping.

“Brunch tomorrow, okay?” Victoria tells them when she pulls up in front of their hotel. “I’ll pick you up at 11.”

“Sounds good,” Tyson says, and lifts his hand in a wave as she drives off. He’s suddenly so tired.

“You okay?” Gabe asks, closer to him than is strictly necessary as they go inside.

“I’m just tired,” Tyson says. They get on the elevator and he leans against the wall and looks steadily at Gabe, doesn’t shy away from the eye contact. “It was a long day.”

“It was,” Gabe agrees. He doesn’t look away either. Tyson can feel Gabe’s eyes on him through his entire body, all the way down to his toes.

Tyson’s heart is racing, his nerves jangling as they walk to their room, but Gabe just changes his clothes in the bathroom, brushes his teeth, and gets in bed. By the time Tyson is done, flips the bathroom light off and pulls the covers back on his side, Gabe is asleep, snoring lightly. Tyson frowns a little, sets an alarm for 9 and lies there, trying not to feel disappointed. He misread the moment, that’s all. Wasn’t the first time.

 

 

When Tyson’s alarm goes off at nine o’clock, at first he wakes up only enough to fumble around and silence it. Then, next to him, Gabe shifts in the bed and Tyson wakes up a little more and it hits him that they’re pressed together again, Gabe’s back to his front, his arm curled over Gabe’s middle. He squeezes his eyes closed and takes a breath, but before he can roll away Gabe carefully puts his hand on Tyson’s, rubs his thumb so gently over Tyson’s knuckles and holds it there against his stomach. 

Tyson feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room.

“Gabe,” he croaks, and Gabe is moving, rolling over to face him and shifting so their chests are pressed together, pushing Tyson onto his back and then hesitating. His eyes are clear and bright and only slightly unsure as he scans Tyson’s face. Tyson nods frantically, doesn’t trust himself to speak, and Gabe lets out a huge breath and leans in. Tyson tips his chin up to meet him and then they’re kissing, deep and firm and a little desperate. Gabe’s mouth is already open against his as he cups Tyson’s face in one big hand and shifts enough to settle his full weight on top of Tyson. 

Tyson moans, low and needy. Before he can be embarrassed about it, Gabe rolls his hips down, presses their dicks together through the few thin layers of fabric and lets Tyson feel how hard he is already, and that’s got Tyson moaning again, digging his fingers into Gabe’s hair as he kisses him.

“Why do you talk about me so much?” Gabe asks, echoing his unanswered question from the night before, voice quiet in Tyson’s ear when he drags his mouth away from Tyson’s to kiss his neck. He’s still moving his hips in tiny, slow movements, stopping whenever Tyson tries to rock up against him.

“C’mon, it’s obvious,” Tyson mumbles, feeling his face get hot. He untangles one hand from Gabe’s hair and slips it under his t-shirt, dragging his fingers up over the smooth expanse of Gabe’s back.

“Tell me,” Gabe says, even more quietly. He’s stroking the back of Tyson’s neck, sending tingles up Tyson’s scalp, and he leans in and kisses Tyson’s mouth again, warm and wet.

Tyson feels like he’s hallucinating. “I - I have feelings for you,” he stammers out, and then wants to kick himself because that’s maybe the least romantic way he could have phrased it. “Fuck, I like you so much, I - ” and then he cuts himself off mid sentence because Gabe grinds his hips down again and Tyson sees stars.

“How long?” Gabe asks, voice rough, lips against Tyson’s neck.

“So long,” Tyson says, not even thinking about being embarrassed anymore. “Months. Even longer.” He doesn’t miss the way Gabe’s breath hitches. 

“Me too,” Gabe tells him, and kisses him again, and Tyson feels like he’s drowning, swept up in the current and surrounded by Gabe. He never wants it to stop. He bites at Gabe’s lower lip and grabs at the hem of his t-shirt, pulls it over his head and throws it away, runs his hands down Gabe’s sides and back up his chest, palms flat, relishing every single inch of warm, exposed skin. Gabe hisses when Tyson’s fingers brush over one of his nipples, and Tyson sneaks a hand between their hips and grips Gabe’s dick firmly through his boxer briefs.

“Fuck,” Gabe gasps, and pleased warmth floods through Tyson at getting that kind of reaction. He squeezes Gabe’s hips a little, pushes his underwear down enough to get his dick out, rubs his thumb over the tip. Gabe gasps again a little, breath coming unevenly and sits up. Tyson gets a good look at his chest and abs, his thighs, his dick hard against his stomach, and Tyson’s mouth goes dry. 

“Your turn, c’mon,” Gabe tells him, and Tyson sits up and lets Gabe help him out of his shirt, pressing kisses frantically against Gabe’s mouth. He wiggles out of his sweatpants and Gabe tosses them on the floor and runs his hands over Tyson’s thighs, his eyes dark, and Tyson is so hard it hurts. It’s fucking surreal that he’s here, with Gabe, that it’s Gabe kissing him and Gabe’s hands touching him, Gabe looking at him like that, after wanting it for so long.

“Wish you could fuck me,” Tyson says as Gabe settles himself back on top of Tyson, kisses his collarbone and wraps one hand carefully around both of their dicks together. “I - fuck, _Gabe_ \- didn’t bring anything, I - what are you doing?” 

Gabe is off the bed, up and searching for something in his backpack, and he looks over his shoulder at Tyson and grins. He’s tall and broad and naked and beautiful, and Tyson tries not to pass out. “I have - there it is.” Triumphantly, he holds up lube and a condom, and now Tyson really might actually pass out. 

“I didn’t - I mean, I hoped,” Gabe tells him, getting back in bed, and Tyson reaches for him and kisses him so hard it almost hurts, until he’s breathless with it and then still more, after that. 

“You have to let go of me so I can do this,” Gabe mumbles after a few minutes, sounding like he’s trying not to laugh, and Tyson just shakes his head and wraps his arms more fully around Gabe’s neck and keeps kissing him. Gabe does laugh, then, a helpless burst of it as he presses his face into Tyson’s shoulder. The whole room is warm and perfect and Tyson can’t imagine it feeling any better. 

Then Gabe touches him, fingers slick with the lube, and Tyson knows there’s no way he’s gotten even close to knowing how good it can feel. Heat pools in his stomach as Gabe works him open so carefully, one finger and then two, and Tyson is literally sweating, chest flushed red, when Gabe finally tries three.

“Fuck,” he manages, teeth gritted, as Gabe curls his fingers ever so slightly. “Come on, I’m ready, I can take it.”

“In a minute,” Gabe says, focused on what he’s doing. He glances up at Tyson, and his face is soft and open. “I wanna be sure, I don’t - ”

Oh, Tyson _loves_ him. 

Tyson is also going to scream if Gabe’s dick isn’t inside him in the next two seconds, and he says as much, voice strained. Gabe laughs as he rolls the condom on. 

“I mean it, Gabe,” Tyson says, digging his fingers into Gabe’s sides, and Gabe just kisses him, leans up and sinks into him in one smooth motion. “Fuck.” His voice is shaky.

“You good?” Gabe asks him. Tyson opens his mouth to say that of course he is, goddammit, get on with it already, but. Gabe looks so genuine, eyes wide, and Tyson just nods, hitches up one leg to wrap around Gabe’s waist, kisses him back when Gabe leans in again.

Then Gabe starts to move, and Tyson feels like he’s imploding, sparks crackling all over his skin, every point where their bodies are touching electrified. He winds his hands into Gabe’s hair and refuses to let him pull away, kisses him until Gabe is panting against his mouth. Tyson wants to fucking bottle this moment and keep it forever.

“So good,” Gabe tells him, words slurred against his cheek, and Tyson groans and rocks up against Gabe a little faster, a little harder. “Tys, fuck.”

“Yeah, c’mon,” Tyson says, voice rough, still moving. “Jesus, Gabe, you - you’re so hot, I. Shit.” It’s not his most eloquent moment, but it’ll do.

Gabe seems to agree: he groans, drops his head onto Tyson’s shoulder, and comes. Tyson holds him up as best he can and kisses him through it and runs his hands down over Gabe’s arms, and then knees him in the side once it’s been a couple minutes and Gabe is still recovering. That’s good for his ego, but if he doesn’t come as soon as possible he really thinks he might die.

Gabe lifts his head up and gives him a look, but he’s already wrapping one hand around Tyson’s dick, stroking him slowly, dragging his thumb over the head. His grip is a little rough, but in a good way, and it only takes a minute or two, Tyson jerking his hips against Gabe’s hand, before he shudders and comes. He gasps out Gabe’s name as he does, and Gabe kisses him, swallows up the rest of the noises he makes.

“Fuck,” Tyson says after a minute or two of staring at the ceiling and trying to catch his breath and also wrap his head around what just happened. He looks over at Gabe, who’s lying on his side next to him, watching him, his eyes bright. “You - _like_ me?”

Gabe absolutely cracks up. 

Tyson grabs a pillow and hits him with it, kicks at him while Gabe flounders in the sheets and laughs, and they end up wrapped around each other, kissing again.

“Yes,” Gabe tells him between kisses, cupping Tyson’s face in both of his hands. “I like you. A lot.”

“Oh,” Tyson says, grinning at him. “Okay. Cool.”

“You’re such a weirdo,” Gabe mutters, but then he presses closer and kisses Tyson again, so Tyson doesn’t really mind much. He wonders, briefly, if they could just stay in bed all day, but then Gabe rolls away and sits up and says, “C’mon, we gotta get going,” and real life comes crashing back in. 

Still. At least he has a not-fake boyfriend to take to brunch.

 

 

**one year later**

 

“I can’t believe I missed this last year,” Gabe says happily when Tyson finds him in the hallway, looking at all of the old photos and artwork his grandma’s hung up over the years. He’d disappeared to use the bathroom before dessert, and after they’d waited for ten minutes Tyson had been sent to track Gabe down, bring him back to the table. He realizes it may have only been so he’d quit whining about wanting dessert, but whatever.

“I was a little distracted,” Tyson says, fairly, as he tucks his chin over Gabe’s shoulder. “Sorry I didn’t get around to showing you my grandma’s 20 year old gallery wall.”

Gabe grins, then points to a framed photo of Tyson at maybe 12. “Is this _you_?”

“Oh, God,” Tyson says, hiding his face in Gabe’s shoulder. “Do we have to do this? Just, there’s cake in the other room.”

“You look exactly the same,” Gabe says, sounding way too pleased. “I love your selfie pose.”

“Shut up,” Tyson says. He wraps both arms around Gabe’s waist and tries to drag him away, but Gabe’s thick ass doesn’t even budge. “C’mon, let’s - ”

“No, stop, you’re cute,” Gabe tells him. “Look at that face.” Tyson chances a glance over Gabe’s shoulder; he’s pointing to a shot of Tyson with his family, one where he’s much younger than 12. Gabe is beaming as he leans in closer to really study it, and Tyson is caught between deep embarrassment and loving Gabe so much he might pass out. He tucks his face into the curve of Gabe’s neck and tries not to smile. 

“Don’t worry,” Gabe adds. “I’ll have my mom show you all of my baby pictures when we go visit.”

“Yeah?” Tyson asks, stomach jumping at the reminder of their trip to Sweden next month. It’s still a little wild to him that he and Gabe have been dating for a year, Gabe basically moved into Tyson’s house at this point, and now Gabe is taking him to Stockholm, to meet Gabe’s family and see his hometown as his boyfriend - his _real_ boyfriend. 

“They’re horrible,” Gabe says. “You’ll love them.” He turns in the circle of Tyson’s arms and kisses him, both hands on his face.

“Can’t wait,” Tyson mumbles, squeezing Gabe a little tighter. “Love you.” 

“Love you too,” Gabe tells him, and Tyson leans up and kisses him again, even as Gabe is looking back at the photos on the wall. “Hey. Thanks for bringing me here.”

“I literally had no choice,” Tyson says, truthfully, letting go of Gabe but still leaning against his shoulder. “My grandma called me in May and told me that even if my schedule was full and I couldn’t make it, you were still welcome. She sounded threatening. I was scared, Gabe.”

“As much as I enjoy your family liking me more than you,” Gabe tells him, gently running his thumb over the frame of a photo of Tyson as a newborn, being held by Victoria, and smiling to himself, “I actually was talking about last year.”

“Oh,” Tyson says. “Anytime. You’re welcome for the deception.”

Gabe gives him a look. “You know I hate it when you call it that.”

“I did deceive you, Gabe,” Tyson says, immediately picking up the thread of the conversation where they dropped it the last time it came up. “I lured you here - ” Gabe snorts, loudly. “ - under false pretenses. When I asked if you would be my fake boyfriend, the clear implication was that I had no interest in you being my real boyfriend, and I concealed my actual feelings.”

“First of all, I’ve never heard you use that many big words at once,” Gabe says. Tyson scoffs. What a joke. He knows, and _uses_ , plenty of big words. “Second of all, I did the same thing.”

“Yeah, but I did it worse,” Tyson insists. He’s mostly joking; at this point, it’s a running thing that neither of them are actually all that invested in but enjoy too much to let go of. It doesn’t matter how they got there, he figures, only that they finally did. 

Gabe smirks at him. “That’s true of a lot of things.”

“Oh, goddammit, I hate you.”

Gabe grins bigger and pushes him up against the opposite wall, hands firm on Tyson’s arms. “No, you don’t.”

No, Tyson thinks as Gabe kisses him. He really, really doesn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> i know they wouldn’t really just be hanging around denver in the middle of the summer, but i do what i want.


End file.
